Page 22 of Avidian
The blood drains from my face. “You want me to use them as pawns? Like tools?”
“That’s what they already are to him,” he says, his voice hard. “You’d be playing along to get us closer to the truth. Once I know where they’re kept, I can figure out a way to dismantle it all.”
I shake my head, my chest tightening. “I don’t like where this is going, Malachi.”
“You don’t have to like it,” he says softly. “You have to decide if freedom—yours and theirs—is worth the risk.”
I can’t bring myself to answer. Because the truth? I’m not sure I know yet.
My pretty prison is safe, predictable, controlled, and survivable. But am I ready to risk it all for a chance at a real life? The thought gnaws at me, and I try to shove it down. Hope is dangerous. Letting myself believe there’s a way out will only make it hurt worse when this all fails and falls apart.
I glance at Malachi, his brown eyes still on me, waiting for my answer. I think about Orin and the punishments I’ve endured. I don’t know if I can bear another round of his sadistic shit. But can I let my fear, my cowardice, be the thing that keeps Malachi from saving so many others like me? What if he really can puta dent in the trade business and stop the trafficking of Avids altogether?
I sigh. “Okay, I’ll do what I can to help. But that doesn’t mean we’re friends, and if this shit goes south, you can bet I’ll throw your ass under the bus in a second.”
A smile spreads across his face, and there it is—that stupid, dangerous smile.
Fuck.
It’s too charming, far too dangerous. The kind of smile that could make someone forget all the red flags waving in the background.
“It’s decided then,” he says smoothly. “You keep working on the case and find a way to learn more about the Avids and how they manage things. Tomorrow night, Viktor’s throwing some kind of party. I’ll make sure my father thinks it’s a good idea for you to attend. I could use a second set of eyes and ears.”
I snort, the absurdity of it hitting me. “His son was brutally murdered in this very house, and he’s throwing a dinner party? How deranged can your family get?”
Malachi laughs, the sound dark and full of irony. “I know, right? Let’s say Damien wasn’t exactly his favorite son. Haven’t you learned yet that appearances are everything in the Volkov family? Viktor needs to put on a strong front and celebrate the arrival of his brother. Nothing screams ‘strong leader’ like a dinner party in a house still stained with blood.”
I squirm but don’t argue. The Volkovs thrive on appearances, power plays, and pretending everything is under control—even when it’s clearly not.
“Was Gary or Anton out in the hall when you came in?” I ask, steering the conversation away from the madness of the party.
“I saw Anton downstairs eating lunch, and Gary thinks I’m trying to get in your pants, so don’t worry about him beingsuspicious of anything,” Malachi says, adding a wink that makes my stomach churn.
“Nice. Real nice. Seems you’ve thought of everything, haven’t you? Except how to do this all on your own,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.
His grin widens, and for the first time I notice the faint dimple on his left cheek. It’s infuriatingly disarming. “You don’t have to like me, Kat,” he says. “At the end of the day, we want the same things. It only makes sense to work together.”
He’s right about that. I don’t like him, and this changes nothing. But I learned from Marco to keep your enemies close. Malachi isn’t my friend, but for now I’ll play along. I’ll help him, so long as I don’t get the sense he’s playing me.
“I still have a feeling you’re not telling me everything,” I say, watching him closely. “Was this your plan all along? Did you know who I was that night in the park?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but a knock at the door cuts him off. The handle shakes, and my stomach twists. Good thing he locked it, I guess.
“Viktor wants to speak with you,” Anton says from the other side, his voice like gravel. There’s no getting out of this.
I glance back briefly, but Malachi is already moving, slipping silently into the bathroom. Of course.
I crack the door open and nod. “Fine. Lead the way.”
I step into the hall, the door clicking shut behind me. Whatever Malachi was going to say will have to wait. For now, I’m walking into whatever Viktor has planned.
Chapter Eight
RULE 8 OF THE NEW ORDER: NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF PLAYING THE FOOL. SOMETIMES THE EASIEST WAY TO GET WHAT YOU WANT IS TO LET THEM THINK THEY’RE IN CONTROL.
Viktor leans backin his chair and says, “Do you use your gift to speak to the family you killed?” It’s like all the air is knocked out of me.
I don’t flinch, but I feel it, hard and vivid. My hands twitch at my sides, desperate to hold something—anything—against the raw pain.
